The Aftermath
by Roronoa Emi
Summary: Set directly after the events of the first book. Percy and Marguerite arrive home to discover that not all is as it seems. Crappy summary. Rated T for slight gore and fluff.
1. Discovery

Hello again. I started this a little while ago but realized that I hadn't uploaded it here. So for those of you who know me on DeviantArt, this is not new but it will be continued.

I really cannot express in words how much I love this series and the wonderful couple who are at the center of it. I only hope I can do them some semblance of justice.

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><p>1<p>

The ride had been long and tiresome but Percy didn't mind. His back was still terribly sore from where Chauvelin's soldiers had beaten him on the beach near the Pére Blanchard's hut but he hadn't really noticed it. Since his yacht, the _Day Dream, _had landed safely in Dover, Sir Percival Blakeney could think of little else but his wife. Marguerite. The name seemed a thousand times more wonderful then it ever had for he knew now that at long, long last he had her love.

He had not let go of her hand since they had entered the coach. Only at the posting inns, when he had needed to take care of some of the arrangements, had he reluctantly left her. But the moment they were together again he would take her small, delicate hand and hold it lovingly in his.

In the privacy of their coach they exchanged many words, which filled in the empty void that the past year had been. Hands and eyes were locked throughout their journey. He could not look away from such dazzling blue depths, which glittered like sapphires in sunlight. Nor could she stand to be away from him. Her newfound love for a man she had so recently despised bubbled up inside her and the loving words she said soothed his heart, which had ached with longing for her for nearly a year.

They arrived at their splendid Richmond home late in the evening. Percy stepped out of the coach first then offered a hand to his wife. Gladly accepting his assistance, she alighted from the vehicle and set foot at last on familiar soil.

"Home," she breathed, for it truly was her home now. Before it had just been a place, a house she shared with an idiotic fop who cared more about the latest fashion then about her. It was a new place to her, however, since she had returned from near-death at the hands of Chauvelin and his soldiers. She was an enemy of bloodthirsty France and even the affection for her dear brother was dwarfed by the overwhelming love and devotion that she now felt for her husband. She turned to him with a smile hoping to see in his eyes the same look of adoration and contentment. But as she gazed upon him the sick feeling of worry filled her. Although he smiled back at her, dark circles lined his eyes and his complexion was shockingly pale. She had observed that he had seemed quite tired in the coach, of course, but now he looked almost ready to faint.

"Is something wrong m'dear?" queried Sir Percy, as she scrutinized his face.

"N-no," she answered uncertainly. She didn't like at all how he looked but thought it better to ask him inside, away from the servants. Smiling, he offered her his arm and they began to ascend the steps of the main terrace. Percy had only taken a few steps when he suddenly tottered and had to grab onto the marble balustrade for stability.

"Percy!" she gasped as he caught himself. He looked even paler then before and his eyes had lost the shield of inane merriment with which he perpetually masked his countenance. A pained look flashed across his face and he grunted softly as he tried to steady himself. It had all happened in an instant. "Frank, quick!" Marguerite called out and Sir Percy's personal valet rushed to help her. But before Frank could reach the stairs, Sir Percy had straightened up and was quietly laughing his shy, inane laugh.

"I'm quite well my dear," he said, squeezing her hand reassuringly. "Just a bit cramped from being in that demmed coach for so long." She began to protest but his eyes stopped her. She nodded, unsure of what to do, and walked with him the rest of the way into the entrance hall.

After having her cloak and his overcoat removed, Sir Percy dismissed the servants and the house quickly went to bed. Taking her arm in his once more he lead her up the staircase to her chambers. They walked quite close and she could feel his warmth through his satin jacket. Upon reaching her door, he bowed gallantly over her hand and, kissing it, bid her goodnight.

"Stay with me tonight," she pleaded. Her eyes were large pools of the deepest blue and Percy found himself lost in them. He longed to hold her. His desire and her beauty buried his fatigue. It had been so long since they had been truly alone and happy in each other's company. His heart thundered in his chest as he looked down on her face.

"Lud m'dear," he whispered with a smile, "you know I am unable to deny a pretty woman."

She pulled him inside, quickly closing the door behind her. Turning back to him, she was unexpectedly pulled into his arms. She melted into his embrace; so warm and comforting, her head fitting perfectly beneath his chin. It felt so right, something she had not experienced from him since their marriage. Slowly he brought a hand under her chin and tilted her face to meet his. She could see the passion burning in his pale eyes and trembled at his touch.

His lips met hers in a soft, loving kiss. It was the first they had shared in nearly a year. Percy had yearned to hold her during the long and weary hours they had spent traveling but had kept himself in check. Now the passion that had welled up inside him over the months of their estrangement suddenly burst through the floodgates of his soul. It spilled over him and he found himself unable to resist any longer. His lips pressed more firmly against hers and he moved his hand to the back of her neck to support her head. Utterly lost in the moment, she wrapped her arms around his neck, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. When his tongue brushed her lips she shuddered and held him tighter, but did not bar him entrance. It snaked into her mouth, and a groan rumbled in the back of his throat. He had wished for so long to hold her like this. Now she was fully his: his wife, his love.

They broke apart reluctantly, out of breath from the outflow of emotion. Percy clasped her to him tightly, afraid that the moment was only a dream and at any time she might fly away and leave him again.

"Oh my Margot," he breathed into her hair, his voice thick with desire. "How I have longed to hold you again." She snuggled into the smooth fabric of his jacket, endeavoring to be as close to him as possible.

"Percy," she sighed, her voice muffled against the cloth. It was so good to have him back. He gently pulled her to a chair by the fireplace and sat her on his lap. His voice was silent but his hands and lips spoke volumes. She nestled against his broad chest, fully contented in his arms. He was very warm. His cheeks were flushed and that tired look still lingered in his eyes. But Marguerite attributed his appearance to the hours of travel, the beating he had received the night before and the kisses they shared. Percy was incandescently happy. He had never felt so alive. Even his daring escapades did not compare to this. He held her close, wishing the night to never end. But the heat from the fire was making him dizzy and he was infinitely grateful to be sitting down.

A noise in the hallway made her jump. After everything Chauvelin had put them through Marguerite was still on the alert. She moved to get up but was restrained.

"Leaving me so soon? Or do you merely wish to move to a more…comfortable location?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow mischievously. She gasped and swatted his chest, eliciting from him a long rolling laugh.

"I only wish to check the hall," she huffed, playfully. It was so good to be able to exchange such light-hearted banter. Just three days ago she had regarded him with bitter contempt. Yesterday she had been ready to die for him. Now she could not imagine life without him.

"I'm sure it was just one of the servants," he replied as she tried to stand again.

"Forgive me Percy, but you must understand that after what we have just gone through in France I am still a little frightened, even in our own house and even with you." He smiled sadly, the evening now tainted with an air of regret. It broke his heart to know that he had brought fear into her life.

"At least allow me to accompany you then."

"No, you stay here and rest. You have had so little time to do so and you must be very tired. It's only just down the hall."

"As you wish, sweetheart," he said quietly. "Although I am loth to let you out of my sight for a moment." She giggled as he laid feathery kisses along her jaw line. This time her efforts at extricating herself were unimpeded and she stood before him. Her eyes held a hint of triumph, his, accepted defeat.

"I will be back before you have the chance to miss me." And with a kiss she was gone.

He watched her retreating form. When she had closed the door he sighed heavily unable to contain his regret. He knew her knowledge of his identity as the Scarlet Pimpernel would bring her some worry but he had never intended to cause her fear or suffering.

He rubbed his temples, trying to rid himself of the ever-worsening dizziness. The fire was making him hot and he rose with the intention of relocating to the window seat where the cool night air chilled the glass. As he stood the room began to spin violently. He tried to take a step but his vision blurred. The room around him faded away until he was left with an inky darkness.

Marguerite had walked down the hallway to look for anything that might have been out of place. Satisfied, she hurried back to her rooms and her husband. Upon reentering the room, however, the object of her affection was not to be found. He was no longer in the chair by the fire and she could not see him anywhere else in the room. Unsure of what might have happened during her absence she crept closer to look for him. When she found him she gasped in horror. He was lying prostrate on the floor, an arm extended towards the window seat that had been his destination. Rushing to his side she rolled him carefully onto his back pillowed his head on her lap and began anxiously calling his name.

"Percy… Percy!" she urged, as she stroked his face. To her dismay she found his cheeks and forehead burning with fever. His eyes fluttered open to her worried face.

"M-margot? What…?"

"You fell, darling," she answered him, endeavoring to hide the quiver in her voice. "You have a terrible fever. We must get you into bed. Do you think you could stand if I helped you?"

Percy nodded, still out of sorts and unsure of what had happened. Normally his pride and gentlemanly decorum would not have allowed him to be caught in such a situation or to need help walking, but as he could barely stand on his own, he reluctantly let it slide. He didn't have much choice. Either Marguerite could help him or she could call for a servant. He did not want anyone else to see himself in such a state of weakness so he used the chair to lever himself up and tried to overcome his state of vertigo.

He made it to the bed, leaning heavily on his wife's arm, and sat on the edge. Marguerite knelt and took off his boots. He made to protest but at a serious look from her the words died in his throat. He had managed to remove his jacket, cravat, jabot and waistcoat with little trouble and in only his shirtsleeves and trousers felt much cooler.

"Ah…" he sighed, "I think I am much better now." But as he tried to stand Marguerite pushed him down onto the bed. Thinking quickly, he grabbed her arms and used her momentum to pull her on top of himself as he fell backwards onto the sheets.

"Thank you dear heart," he said, placing a kiss on her nose. "I am ashamed to be in such a state before you. I pray you will forgive me." She lay against him and sighed contentedly.

"I am only happy to be with you. But really Percy," she chided him, sliding to her feet, "you need to rest." She fixed him with a stern gaze, but could not quite keep from smiling. With a chuckle he gave in. He was truly touched by her worry. After brushing his lips reverently against her hand, he obediently slipped beneath the covers. Marguerite went to undress then soon lay down next to him and he drifted off into a restless sleep.

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><p>One thing I must mention, I did not pay a whole lot of attention to anachronisms. I apologize if that upsets you. This is for fun anyway. Please let me know what you thought. All reviews, questions, comments, etc. are welcome.<p> 


	2. Affliction

Chapter 2: Affliction

Percy awoke to the warmth of sunlight on his face, the brilliant beams of golden light streaming in through the curtains and casting strange shadows on the walls. Groggily, he turned on his side to gaze upon his beautiful wife only to find her no longer beside him.

"Margot?" he called hoarsely. His voice echoed around the room but only silence answered him. He lay back down uneasily. A sense of foreboding filled him and he wished to assure himself of her safety but he was still very tired, and his eyes soon drifted closed against his will.

A scream brought him stark awake. He sat bolt upright as Fear's icy fingers wrapped tightly around his heart. There was no mistaking the sound. It was Marguerite. He threw the bed sheets from him and bounded to the door. He was at the grand staircase in seconds, but at the top of the stairs he began to sway. The fever exerted its hold on him ruthlessly, blurring his vision, and he fought fiercely to remain conscious. Marguerite was in danger. He had no time to be weak. He took the stairs four at a time, his long powerful legs propelling him towards the sound of his beloved. It was a miracle he did not tumble down and break his neck and as he raced to the bottom, the thought that he was in nothing but his shirt and breeches did not even occur to him. For once his appearance was the last thing on his mind.

Another cry pierced the air. This time it sounded even more desperate. Percy dashed to the entrance hall and flung open the large oak doors. What he saw before him turned his very blood cold. Chauvelin stood in the gravel drive, Marguerite clutched tightly to him. He held a pistol to her head and when he saw Percy he shouted out to him.

"So Pimpernel, can you save this one?"

"No Percy!" Marguerite cried, tears streaming down her face. "Don't worry about me. Save yourself!" Ignoring her warning, he hurried to the bottom of the terrace and called out to his enemy.

"It's me you want, Chauvelin. Let my wife go, and I'll come with you quietly." The Frenchman smiled evilly. Yes, he would be victorious this time. Marguerite saw something move around the side of the house. It was one of Chauvelin's men, his gun aimed at Percy's back.

"Percy, behind you!" She wriggled in her captor's grasp, trying desperately to get loose. Chauvelin cursed and tightened his hold on her.

"Stop squirming, I…" The sound of thunder cut him short. In her attempt to free herself she had hit Chauvelin's hand, accidentally setting off the gun. Blood and brain matter splattered the Frenchman's coat and face. The bullet had gone through the right side of her head at point blank range. Percy heard someone scream. He realized in horror that it was himself.

xxx

Marguerite had risen early. She felt her husband's brow and found it still burning hot. Silently she slipped out of bed and dressed without her maid, then rang for a servant to fetch a physician. She was not hungry for breakfast and instead went back to her chambers to check on Percy. She was almost to the door when a blood-curdling scream issued from the room.

Percy held Marguerite's limp form in his arms as tears rolled unheeded down his cheeks. Nothing mattered to him now, nothing but her. It was too cruel, too cruel that he should be reunited with her at last only to lose her so irretrievably. Through his bitter weeping he thought he could still hear her voice calling out to him. The bravest man in all the world knelt broken and defeated, his very soul shattered. There was nothing without her, no light, no hope, no point in living. She was everything to him, the very air he breathed. Even when he thought she despised him, the pure passion and adoration he felt for her had kept him alive. The thought of living without her was unbearable. Oh, what he would not _give_ to see her smile once more!

"Mar…got…" The name was hardly audible through the sobs that wracked his massive frame yet it held all his love and sorrow. Her blood spilled over him, soaking his clothes, the acrid smell conjuring terrible memories of head after head rolling on the guillotines of France stained red with the lifeblood of innocents. The vision grew large and menacing before him until it swallowed him completely. Darkness surrounded him and he fell through a swirling black void. But even as he hurtled downwards through the pit of his despair, her voice still came to him. It was as though the very sound had become a guiding light and he reached out to it. The voice grew steadily louder and slowly he dared to open his eyes. To his utter astonishment he was no longer falling, nor was he on the gravel drive. He was still in bed! Marguerite was shaking him gently, calling his name. She was alive! His arms were instantly around her and he held her tightly, needing to feel her closeness. He could still see the dead, terror filled eyes that had stared out unblinkingly at him from her face. The images from his nightmare had been so real. He could scarcely believe it had not happened even though he was holding her in his arms. He buried his face in her hair, desperately trying to forget the gruesome memory.

Marguerite could feel her husband shaking in her arms. She rubbed his back and kissed his forehead, trying to soothe him. Never before had the great Sir Percy shown such fear or weakness and his current condition frightened her. At last they broke apart and Marguerite helped him lay back against the pillows. Percy was reluctant to let her go. He had lost her only moments ago and the nightmare still haunted his memory. He took her hand firmly in his and she sat on the edge of the bed.

"Percy, what happened? I heard you scream. It was terrifying. I thought something horrible had happened." Percy tried to smile to allay her fears.

"I am better now, little woman," he said shakily, endeavoring to regain his composure. The entire manor must have heard him. He had never screamed as such in his life. The rouge of embarrassment tinted his cheeks but was thankfully undetected due to his condition. "'Twas merely a nightmare. Must be this demmed fever…"

"I have been terribly worried about you." She stroked his cheek and the heat from his face startled her more. His condition was worsening. He leaned into her touch, the coolness of her hand a welcome change from the incessant fever. He sighed relievedly as the presence of his beloved wife dissolved the ghastly images of his nightmare, replacing them with thoughts of the future he now looked forward to spending with her. So caught up in imaginings was he that several sentences were uttered before the realization that she had continued to speak struck him. Unfortunately for the ill adventurer, he rejoined the conversation at a most inopportune moment.

"…and so I felt it was up to me to make the decision. Therefore, I have called for a physician and he will arrive about midday."

Percy froze. He hated doctors, thought they were "demmed useless." They had done nothing for his poor mother when she had gone mad at a young age and they always insisted on using the most… unnatural forms of treatment. Unwelcome memories flushed out all his previously happy feelings and he shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

"Percy? Is something the matter?" Marguerite inquired when he did not reply.

"Oh! No, nothing. I'm terribly sorry my dear. I feel all out of sorts. Thank you." He smiled at her and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "You will forgive me for asking, Margot, but have you breakfasted yet this morning. I must say that I am quite famished and would be delighted if you would join me." Marguerite smiled, glad to see that his earlier fright had passed. Kissing him gently on the forehead, she rose to fetch the servants.

"I will be back shortly."

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><p><strong>Lady Cavalier<strong>: Thank you so much for the kind reviews for this story and others. I am delighted that you are enjoying this. I also have school coming up along with the yearly move-in and will therefore try to upload whenever I can. I am juggling a few stories right now so I ask for a little patience but I assure you there is more to come. : ) …(random) Enjoying freshman year of hs? haha Oh teenage drama, how I loathe thee. Also, if you become a member of this site it can automatically alert you to updates of your favorite stories. Plus you can pm people. Just some info. :P


	3. Hesitation

Sigh… I apologize profusely to you all for being so slow in updating but Uni is really kicking my butt. _ I will make an effort to try and write more often but unfortunately, I am unable to promise anything in the way of more frequent updates. For those of you still reading, I thank you for your patience. I am hoping chapter 4 will come along more quickly.

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><p>Chapter 3: Hesitation<p>

Breakfast passed slowly. Percy recovered from the fright he had suffered earlier and now sat completely contented in the presence of his beautiful wife. They had breakfasted together in her chambers and engaged in light conversation well after the silver and china had been cleared away.

It was unfortunate that Sir Percy was ill, but both husband and wife enjoyed it as a reason to be excused from the responsibilities of everyday life. Never had he seen her smile so often and it warmed his heart to know that such radiance was for him alone. While Percy delighted in the company of his dear Marguerite, he could not, however, help feeling anxious about the league's work. It had become his life and what had started out merely as sport had evolved into a struggle of life and death that sent chills down his spine after every successful escape. Even such marital bliss could not keep his thoughts off of France and his work there. The league had a very important rescue coming up and he needed to assure himself that everything was going according to plan.

He also admitted to himself, somewhat ashamedly, that he wanted to be long gone when the doctor arrived. He was not the sort of man to be frightened of anything, save of course losing those he loved, but when it came to physicians he preferred to stay as far away from them as humanly possible. The things he had seen them do to his mother had terrified him as a child. She could hardly be faulted for being ill. Does one blame an invalid for the loss of a limb? And yet they treated her as less than human. His fears had dissipated with age but the distrust stayed with him, buried deep inside. The mixture of duty and unease formed a potent pair.

"Margot," he said hesitantly as he took her hand in his, "there is some important business that I must discuss with Sir Andrew and…"

"Concerning the League?" She interrupted. He had avoided her gaze initially and now stroked his thumb across her fingers, fidgeting in his discomfort.

"Yes," He said after a time, unsure how she would further react. "We are due to bring back the Duc de Luynes in less than a fortnight and…"

"The Duc de Luynes?" she asked incredulously, the hurt in her voice painfully apparent. "You lie in bed, sick with fever and exhaustion and all you can think about is some _aristo_ who needs saving? Percy, you are ill! You are in no condition to ride all the way to London. And you have only just returned from France. Chauvelin will not stop until he has caught you and seen you to that horrid scaffold. I could not bear to lose you now. Are you going to leave me again just as I have finally found you?" Tears snaked silver trails down her cheeks as she choked out the last words of her appeal. He gave way instantly.

"Oh Margot." He pulled her into his arms and kissed away her tears, guilt shooting through him all the while. "You know I could never stand to see you cry." She sniffed audibly, turning away from his attentions.

"It was not two days ago that you were cold and indifferent to my tears. And now you wish to leave me to go back to France so that you may continue your sport. Those nobles are more important to you than I am." She had aimed the shaft well and it struck true. His hold on her loosened as the words pierced his heart. The wounds of their estrangement were still fresh and love and regret battled the pride that had kept them separated for so long. Gently, he slipped a hand under her chin and turned her face to look up at his.

"Nothing, no one could _ever _be more important to me than you. I love you more than anything, more than life itself. Darling I…" He paused, swallowing hard at the unpleasant memories. "We were both cruel to one another," he continued, his voice soft and pleading. "But you must know how much I adore you. I would never do anything to harm you."

He was so weak and vulnerable that one word from her could have silenced his love forever. The very look in his eyes told her the power she had over him. It thrilled and frightened her. But it was the unconcealed sorrow in his voice that startled her most. New tears welled in her eyes as she fell into his arms, burying her face in his shirtfront in regret.

"Oh Percy, please forgive me. I should never have said that. I don't want to push you away again. I'm just… so worried. I don't know what I would do if something were to happen to you now." She refused to meet his eyes, ashamed at her selfishness and pride. It had pulled them apart before and it terrified her that a careless word might do so again. But he held her tightly, silently reassuring her of his love and devotion.

"I will stay," he all but whispered, running a hand through her hair to soothe her. Cupping her cheek in his palm he raised her face to his once more, brushing away new tears with his thumb. "But I must at least write to Ffoulkes to give him further instructions and to inform him of my condition. He will pass on the news to the rest of the league but without word from me, they will not act. I cannot allow a man's life to be snuffed out because of my illness."

"I understand. I never meant for you to abandon him, I only…" But his lips silenced her, a tender kiss that spoke of his love and forgiveness.

"Think on it no more, dear heart," he said softly, breaking away only far enough to touch his forehead against hers. "Things have been hard for us both. Let us forget this and think only of our time together."

The rest of the morning was spent in near silence. Marguerite brought her husband a portable writing desk, ink, quill and some of his stationary to write to his lieutenant and friend. When he had finished the note, she sealed it for him then rang for Frank, whom Sir Percy trusted implicitly with all league business, to send the letter by courier to Sir Andrew in London. The whole affair took no more than ten minutes time and then they were back in each other's arms.

Marguerite had forgone the elegant gowns so characteristic to her and had instead donned a simple dress, her hair free of powder and tied back loosely with thick ribbon. Percy thought she looked divine. The dress reminded him of their days together in Paris during their engagement. She looked every bit the star of the Comédie-Française he had fallen head over heels for the moment she stepped out on stage.

"My dearest Margot…," Percy whispered softly in her ear as he held her close. The bed had been hot and restricting and he felt restless being confined to it. After some cajoling on his part, Marguerite had helped him to the nearby settee. They then wasted no time snuggling close, hands entwined and hearts healing in the shared knowledge of the love they held for one another.

It was not long, however, before a soft knock was heard. After being told to enter, a maid curtsied to the couple, slightly embarrassed by their obvious display of affection, and informed them that the physician had arrived.

"Wonderful! Thank you Marie," Marguerite said cheerfully, completely unaware of the dread flowing through her husband. He kept himself outwardly calm and composed, resisting the urge to tighten his grip on her hand. He simply smiled serenely and allowed her to help him back to the large bed.

The physician was sent up and, after quick pleasantries, began his examination. Percy flinched unnoticeably as a little black bag was opened and the doctor's hand reached down for an instrument.

"Calm down, old boy," he admonished himself, making a herculean effort to retain an impassive expression. Luckily for the Scarlet Pimpernel, it was only a pair of spectacles. First his temperature was taken, then a check for irregular heartbeat. The doctor studied him, poking and prodding, and making poor Percy terribly uncomfortable.

"I say sir, I'm not a pincushion!"

"I am truly sorry for the discomfort, Sir Percy, but this is the only way I will come up with a proper diagnosis."

"Diagnosis?" he asked incredulously. "Sink me, my good fellow but _I_ can tell you that. I have a fever and a demmed horrid one at that. Now kindly give me something to remedy it." The man hid his agitation poorly but Percy feigned ignorance. He wanted the doctor out as quickly as possible. He had a mass of welts and bruises on his back that were absolutely unexplainable should they be discovered. Thankfully the doctor had not asked him to remove his shirt yet and Percy was eager to finish the house call before any such demand was made.

"Very well, Sir Percy, if that is what you wish. Though I must interject, for the sake of my profession and conscious, that I am against simply handing out medications without a proper diagnosis. However, since you seem extraordinarily eager and I can't seem to find anything else wrong with you, I will leave you with the bottle and strict instructions to take one teaspoon of the contained liquid twice a day orally until there is none left. Understood?"

"Perfectly," Blakeney replied, relieved that the visit was over and he had not been discovered.

"Thank you Doctor Hall," Marguerite said gratefully as the man closed up his bag and turned to leave. Percy had been his usual foppish self, but something else had added to his attitude towards the attending physician. As she escorted him from the room, questions began to take root in her mind. Something was definitely amiss.

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><p>Thank you for all the alerts btw! :3<p> 


	4. Decision

Oh godness. Sorry about such a long wait. Really, between school and everything I don't know where the time has gone. I do hope you'll forgive the time it took getting this up. The past few months have been so incredible hectic. I will endeavor to get another chapter up soon but please be patient. Uni is a mean mistress… _

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><p><strong>Chapter 4 - Memories<strong>

Marguerite saw the physician to the bedroom door, thanked him once more then excused herself. Closing the door quietly, she contemplated the events of the past half hour. Outwardly, her husband wore his usual mask of inane gaiety, all smiles and slow wit. But that keen intuition given to all females told Lady Blakeney that something was still amiss. Walking softly back to the bed where he lay, she found herself worrying. Whatever bothered the indomitable Sir Percy was certainly of note.

She sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his face. His skin was still hot but the fever had broken. He smiled up at her, taking her hand and caressing it in both of his.

"Something is troubling you." It was not a question and Percy shifted uncomfortably under his wife's stare.

"Tis nothing my love," he said with a half-smile. "Merely glad to be alone once more."

"Percy, please. I can see that you are worried about something. Don't shut me out again," she pleaded gently. "Let me help you if I can. At least allow me to try."

He sighed, utterly defeated by her words. She was right. They had been distant for so long that it was difficult for him to open up. He squeezed her hand lightly, looking apologetically into her deep blue eyes.

"Forgive me, dear heart. It was not my intention to keep things from you. I was wary of being discovered. The beating I received from those soldiers still shows clearly on my back. It would be difficult to devise a believable excuse for such wounds." While his answer was truth, he could see it did not satisfy her. "Ah, my dear Margot," he thought wryly, "how easily you pull things from me." Sighing, he turned his gaze away, his thumb rubbing slow circles across her hand.

"However, what is… troubling me, as you say, is not something I have kept only from you. The whole of fashionable English society knows that my mother was… unwell towards the end of her life. They do not know, however, the extent of her "treatment." It was the reason my father left England when I was a boy, to escape the attentions of physicians wishing to experiment on my poor mother and to keep me from seeing the ghastly things they did to her. He could not bear subjecting her to those vultures…" He stopped for a moment, swallowing loudly around the lump forming in his throat. "The memories are… vivid, those of a child. I was five when at last we went abroad. It is those memories which color my feelings of all medical men." He looked down at their entwined hands and cracked a wry smile.

"I have grown out of it mostly, come to understand that they are not all deranged. They do more good than harm I think. Though I still am wary of some of their methods." He turned his face toward his wife and she graced him with a sympathetic and loving smile. He leaned to kiss her but a racket from the ground floor interrupted the gesture.

The sound of frantic shouting reached their ears followed by heavy footsteps on the landing and the door bursting open to reveal Lord Anthony Dewherst.

"Blakeney!" came the cry from the doorway. "Blakeney it's… it's Ffoulkes!" Lord Tony gasped between breaths.

"Calm down Tony, catch your breath. Good. Now what's happened?"

"Ffoulkes. They took him. Just this morning."

"Who? How?"

"A group of Frenchies. Hastings and Kent were with him but were overwhelmed. Said there were nearly twenty of those cursed frog-eaters." It was then that Tony's eyes fell upon the figure of Marguerite, seated on the opposite side of the bed. "L-lady Blakeney!" he stuttered, his cheeks turning a bright red. "My deepest apologies, my lady. I would never…" but a hand from her cut him off.

"Please, Lord Dewherst, do not fret on my account. France is no longer the country of my childhood. And it was the French who almost killed my husband and brother not two days ago. I pray you, continue with your story. It seems most urgent." Lord Tony bowed low, embarrassment but also admiration clear on his face. Turning back to his friend and leader, he resumed his report.

"As I said, they were heavily outnumbered. Hastings suffered a saber slash across an arm, Kent, a ball to the shoulder. Both are home recovering now, eager to help any way they can. Hastings can be ready for action within the week. Kent's condition is somewhat more serious. He was devilish lucky though. A few centimeters to the left and it'd have gotten his heart for sure."

Blakeney nodded, taking in the information with a calm and calculating mind. Marguerite was astounded by his reaction. Fear had gripped her heart when she heard Ffoulkes had been taken. He was Percy's closest friend and lieutenant. To be able to quash his feelings of worry to think and plan clearly could be no easy task. It occurred to her then, how he must face this sort of situation often during his exploits in France. She gazed at him with no small amount of awe. Just when she thought she had really begun to know him, a new layer had been revealed.

"Do you have any clues as to were they've taken him?" she heard Percy say.

"They were in Dover at the time, ready to sail across on the _Day Dream_ as per your orders. Apparently, Ffoulkes had told them to split up to divide the French forces and gain cover. But both Kent and Hastings said that only a few chased after them. The bulk of the party was left to wrestle down Andrew."

"Chauvelin knows Ffoulkes is my second."

"Do you think he plans to torture information out of him?"

"No. Chauvelin is too smart for that. He knows Andrew won't talk. I'll wager he intends to use him as bait."

"For you?" Marguerite interjected, her voice suddenly verging on hysterical.

"It would seem so."

"Oh Percy you mustn't. You can't! Not in your condition!" Percy grasped his wife's hand firmly, a reassuring smile on his face. He flicked his eyes up to Lord Tony for barely a second but the man caught it. He nodded ever so slightly then cleared his throat.

"Good man, Tony," Percy thought.

"Pardon me, Lady Blakeney, I understand your unease, but may I beg a word with Sir Percy in private." She looked between Lord Tony and Percy for a moment before sighing and casting a worried glance on her husband. Percy smiled, gently squeezing her hand. She returned the gesture, bowed to Lord Tony and exited the room. Once gone, the younger man heaved a sigh of relief.

"So Percy, what are your orders?"

"There's a tavern not far from here, the Blue Bull. Ready yourself for a trip across the channel and send word to Stowmarries and Galveston to meet us in Dover at 2 o'clock tomorrow morning."

"Us? Surely you're not coming too?"

"Indeed I am. I will meet you at the Blue Bull at precisely midnight tonight. We will then ride to Dover and onwards to France."

"Really Percy, you must know that Chauvelin has set this up expressly to catch you–"

"Which is precisely why I'm going myself and not sending one of you chaps on instead. He'd kill any one of you straight off, no chance at the guillotine to save you."

"But Percy, you're–"

"You took an oath of unquestioning obedience when you joined this league, Tony. Trust me now, as you have on so many other occasions despite your feelings."


	5. Setting Off

Hooooo shoot me now. =_= Ugh sorry finals suck. Anyway on to more. Sorry my chapters aren't very long. But I'll get the next one up soon I think.

Also, thank you to all the people who have reviewed/put this on their alert list. I am very very grateful. And please, do not hesitate to point out anything that you think is ooc. Anachronisms… well I'm not very good at avoiding them. =_= Otherwise, thanks for reading. :)

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><p>Chapter 5<p>

"You took an oath of unquestioning obedience when you joined this league, Tony. Trust me now, as you have on so many other occasions despite your feelings."

Tony hesitated for a moment then sighed resignedly. "Yes, of course Percy. You know I trust you. It's just after everything that's happened over the past few days… first you and now Andrew. Well you can understand my unrest, can't you?"

"I understand fully, old chap, but it's what we do. Can't let them Frenchies have their own way about things, what?" he added with a raised eyebrow. Tony cracked a smile despite himself and nodded.

"Very well. I'll inform Galveston and Stowmarries. The Blue Bull at midnight?"

"Yes. Farewell for now, Tony. And don't even think about getting caught on the way." The younger man chuckled and headed for the door, giving a nod in reply.

"Don't get into any trouble yourself. Beastly awful thing to be done in by a cold, don't ya know?" he replied in a foppish drawl. They shared a laugh as Tony left, closing the door behind himself. Blakeney could hear his voice in the hall, reassuring Marguerite. Farewells were said then his wife slipped back into the room.

"Oh Percy, please tell me you're not going back over to France," she said worriedly, skirts rustling as she rushed over and sat on the bed. "Chauvelin is still searching for you. He won't stop, you know that as well as I." He grasped her hand and stared down at her fingers entwined in his.

"Darling, you know Chauvelin to be a cunning, determined man. But my staying holed up in England won't do me or any of those needing assistance in France any good. I understand your fears but my dear, I must help Andrew. Chauvelin…"

"Chauvelin wants you dead, Percy. Dead! You're barely able to stand let alone make the trip all the way to France! Why can't you let Tony do it? Or the rest of the league? Have _them_ risk their lives, but not you. Not now, not in this condition." He opened his mouth to answer but she swept off the bed, pacing and wringing her hands.

"And what of me?" she said, turning to him with glistening eyes. "Do you care for me? Your own wife? Who was worried sick about you. Will you leave me to wait for you here, wondering if I'll ever see you alive again?" She looked at him intently then turned away from him again, unable to bear the silence. He moved from the bed to where she stood, turning her around to face him. She refused to look up at him, tears dropping silently to the floor between them.

"Margot," he pleaded, putting a hand beneath her chin and gently raising her face to his. "I understand how this upsets you but won't you have a little faith in me? Ffoulkes needs me now. What kind of leader would I be if I left him in his most dire time of need? And think of little Suzanne, so recently engaged. Should she have to lose her fiancé because I refuse to try and save him? Chauvelin took him because he is close to me, because he knows I would do anything to save him or any other member of the League. He's counting on that. But Margot," he said imploringly, holding her face in his hands and wiping away her tears. "Trust in me. I _will_ return to you. Through Hell and the Devil himself if need be."

His eyes shone with a determination she knew she could not shake. Hanging her head in defeat she allowed him to pull her to his chest, the warmth from his body slowly calming her. He led her back to the bed and held her tightly until she fell asleep in his arms. She had continued to cry, sometimes waking, grasping for him in fright. She would cling to him then, holding tightly for reassurance, hot tears wetting the silk of his shirt. But then she would calm, lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the strong beat of his heart.

It was thusly that Percy spent his time until at last the hour of departure came. Marguerite had fallen into a deep sleep, initially so troubled, and he was able to move without waking her. Percy slipped from the bed casting a longing glance at his sleeping wife. Shaking his head to gather his thoughts, he went first to his study. His valet was waiting faithfully.

"Everything's in order, sir," the manservant said lowly. "Your horse has been ordered and a courier sent this afternoon to Captain Briggs to inform him of your departure. My I help you into your traveling clothes, sir?"

"Very good. Thank you Frank. Yes, I think I shall change now." Frank bowed slightly and preceded the baronet to his rooms, the candelabra he held casting flickering shadows as they walked. Percy changed quickly and returned to his study, sitting heavily at the desk. He frowned over the piece of stationary before him then wrote a brief note. Frank reentered and Sir Percy handed him the envelope, detailing a few instructions.

Time was precious, but not so precious as the woman he was leaving. Quietly, he slipped down the corridors until he stopped at her door. It opened silently, booted feet muffled against the ornate rugs. She turned in her sleep and his heart all but leapt from his chest. He stood at the side of her bed watching her sleep. He dared not think how she would react in the morning upon discovering him gone. His brows furrowed in dismay. He prayed she would understand.

"Mon coeur," he whispered, pressing a kiss lightly to her forehead. "Forgive me."

He was gone as silently as he had come. He made his way done the wide staircase to the main entryway. Frank met him at the door, helping him into his greatcoat then following him down to the gravel drive where his horse had been brought around. Mounting, he turned to Frank.

"Keep her safe." The man nodded firmly. "And Frank…"

"Yes sir?"

"Don't let her do anything foolish again. If Chauvelin finds her in France there will be hell to pay and more then just Andrew's life on the line."

"Yes, sir. You can count on me, sir. God speed." Percy smiled faintly up at one of the windows then spurred his horse and flew.

It was right on the hour when Sir Percy arrived at the Tavern of the Blue Bull. Tony, who had been pacing at the window, came rushing out to greet him. A stable boy came to take the horse and Tony informed him that he had ordered fresh mounts for all of them.

"Galveston and Stowmarries and are still inside… no wait, here they come." Sure enough, two English gentlemen filed out of the tavern and walked quickly over.

"Now what's all this about, Percy?" Galveston asked as he approached. "Tony says Andrew's been captured."

"Yes, apparently by our good friend Chauvelin."

"And you, Percy?" Stowmarries asked earnestly. "Are you sure you're in fair condition to make the journey?"

"Whether I am or not is irrelevant. Andrew is in trouble. Can we do aught but try to help him?" The men nodded, a chorus of agreement meeting him.

"Good. Now, I'll tell you my plan when we reach the _Daydream_. Until then, onward to Dover. And ride hard. We've not a moment to lose."


End file.
